In 1934, horror author H.P. Lovecraft is invited to write down a narrative for a subversive underground journal, all at the pseudonym could be used. The pay is lofty, and God is aware, Lovecraft wishes the money. there is only one capture. It needs to be a pornographic tale . . . All Aboard Trolley No. 1852 in the course of the dead night bowels of recent York urban, the trolley travels. Admitting just a specific kind of passenger, and taking them to a really pick out vacation spot . . . The 1852 membership is a bordello not like the other. Its ladies are the main attractive within the complete urban and they're going to do whatever. yet there's something else happening at this intercourse membership. within the again rooms monsters are appearing vile acts on one another and doorways to different dimensions are beginning . . .

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It was once purely curious, although, the identify of this “madam”: Aheb. How might it no longer reason me to mirror upon these interesting older-than-ancient myths which designated the supernatural revel of the Ahebites and their sacrificial reverence to a major commune of limbless gods hailed because the Pyramidiles? those hideous deities existed as yet pallid hulks of flesh, by no means relocating, purely pondering, merely perceiving. The Pyramidiles, definite. Their human agent upon the earth used to be the obscene sorceress Isimah el-Aheb who had enspelled her humans to bow right down to those revolting cosmic abominations, harking back to their nether-dimensional bulk in terms of enfrenzied orgies and starving blood-baths which in flip generated the psychical horror on which those gods so thrived; certainly, it was once the carnally beauteous el-Aheb who orchestrated rampant earthly horror in veneration; and to whom the Pyramidiles had blasphemously blessed with the reward of immortality through the sickish mold-green tincture that was once yet one in all their depraved secrets and techniques. To her additionally they’d whispered their arcane demeanour of writing: a kind of gematria, the substitution of numbers for letters. as soon as discovered of the entire Pyramidiles’ harrowing secrets and techniques, el-Aheb governed the traditional outlands, to slaughter, pillage, rape, and defile, all within the identify of the Pyramidiles, who lived on geographical regions now not of this earth or perhaps this sun process, yet within the screaming upside-down crevices among house and time; certainly, the Pyramidiles, the Putrid-Flesh Gods; eyeless, brain-filled lots of otherworldly organa, every one the dimensions of a mountain and, suspiciously, the form of a pyramid… What an exciting and eventually macabre outdated legend! With extra iron clatter and a swoosh, the formerly unrelieved darkness broke—much to my commendation—as Trolley No. 1852 eventually exited the deleterious tunnel and now roved down extra dim, tenement-lined streets. taking a look in the back of me, I famous that the overhead power-cables have been not in facts, and we appeared to be touring alongside railways see you later out of use that their heavy wood ledgers had long past to rot. i'll purely imagine that batteries now supplied the trolley its propulsion, for the way else may perhaps this be with no the connexion of the overhead electrical energy cables? “Almost there,” Erwin whispered. via extra stone archways the sullen automobile delved; archways within the such a lot decrepit brick partitions; block-rimmed maws agape and garlanded by way of sickly ivy. subsequent, we crept via a sequence of gruesome but attractive courtyards of what may perhaps purely be deserted edifices, each one bizarrely interconnected by way of narrower archways. This was once the outdated urban, without doubt, one of the city nooks left to disrepair and rendered tenantless through the contagion of outdoor squalor and ruination; actually we have been touring amid the very bowels of latest York. Grainy wedges of moonlight solid a feeble pallor over all as damaged statues watched the trolley from overlooked sconces and rats scurried approximately fieldstone tiles and garbage-filled fountain basins. however it used to be in a single of those eldritch inner-courtyards that the trolley all of sudden slowed, jostled, then squealed to a cease… I appeared approximately, approximately confused.

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